


Being

by Vaguemango



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor's inner struggle with android deviancy, Developing Friendships, M/M, Other, friendfic, just 2 guys bein' dudes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-16
Packaged: 2019-05-24 03:45:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14946974
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vaguemango/pseuds/Vaguemango
Summary: Connor decides to spare the blue-haired Traci and her girlfriend at the Eden Club. This confuses Hank. This really confuses Connor, and forces him to self-reflect.Hank/Connor one-shot friendfic.





	Being

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys. This is the first fic I've published ever. I hope you enjoy! Shout out to Alison for believing in me.

NOV 6th 2038

Rain relentlessly pelted the windshield of the banged up black 1990 Lincoln coupe, as its wipers tried with less-than-surmountable effort to keep Hank’s vision of the road as ‘alright’ as possible. Despite the ‘pre-droid’ hunk o’ junk’s performance during these conditions, Hank loved that car, and loved its stereo system even more.

This drive in particular though, he chose to have the beating rain as his driving soundtrack, accompanied by his occasional sigh, and the audible squeaks from his routine grip adjustment on his worn-leather steering wheel. He occasionally shifted in his seat every ten or so minutes. He swallowed hard and wondered what in the flying fuck had just happened.

_Androids. Deviants. What the fuck. What the fuck. Why didn’t Connor pull the trigger? Those girls were in love. In love. Fuck._ Hank placed his left elbow against the car door’s windowsill, and his left hand cradled his head. He furrowed his brow and grimaced.  

He tried not to look at him. He tried his very best to focus on the little road he could make out ahead of him. He threw the occasional glance at his passenger, watching the android emotionlessly focused on whatever was directly in front of him; Hank couldn’t tell if he was momentarily shut-down or fixated on the woodgrain trim on his dashboard. Hank let out a sigh. _Jesus Christ._

 

* * *

 

Connor remained focused on the dashboard. His circular-LED transmitter flickered between blue, yellow and red, then continued fixed at yellow. Connor didn’t understand. He was programmed and sent to Hank by CyberLife to complete this mission. The two girls would have been a key component to the investigation, they would have furthered his understanding of deviants, their behavior and maybe even bringing him one step closer to decoding the mystery of rA9. He could have shot them to make them incapable of movement, but of course they’d be intact enough for a memory probe or even an analytics assessment to fish out any bugs in their programming. That would have made Amanda proud. That would have fulfilled his purpose, and proved his worth as a viable prototype, a success for CyberLife.

But he didn’t pull the trigger. He decided not to. He didn’t…want to. He closed his eyes tightly.

“Tired, buddy?”

Connor opened his eyes. He kept his focus to the wood trim.

“Connor, buddy, you there? Did CyberLife factory reset ya?”

Connor shifted in his seat and pushed up his tie.

“My programming does not permit me to feel tired, Lieutenant. I was simply reviewing the evidence we have obtained on the case thus far.”

“Find anything we could use?”

“No, nothing significant, Lieutenant”

“Well fuck, Connor.”

Hank tilted his head to right to crack his neck. He gripped his wheel hard at 10 and 2 and slammed the gas pedal.

“Lieutenant, I would advise you to slow down, as the weather conditions do not permit this level of speed with a vehicle in this state.”

“Connor, I get my car’s a piece of shit, you don’t gotta rub it in”

“I am merely stating that- “

“I get it, I get it.” Hank waved his hand at Connor, signaling that he should keep quiet. He decelerated as he had made it to the residential area of his neighborhood. He pulled up to the front of his house. He was looking forward to his nightly whiskey-slumber that awaited him in his living room.

“Well Connor, get the fuck out. I’ll see you in the morning. Maybe we can make sense of all this with a good night’s sleep.”

Connor remained seated.

“Or don’t.”

Hank’s sight lingered on Connor before he looked down at the ignition and grabbed the keys. He took a deep breath and exited the car, slamming the door shut. He made his way to the front door, looking back at his car one last time. He saw Connor fixed in the same place, with the same expression. He couldn’t help but grin; he was starting to like the kid, much to his distaste. He chuckled and stuck his key into the lock and jiggled it open. Once he had closed the door behind him, he exhaled as Sumo ran to greet him. He wondered if Connor really did like dogs.

 

* * *

 

The rain stopped.

Connor turned his head to look at Hank as he entered his home. As he saw Hank close the blinds to his bay window, he hypothesized that Hank would make an immediate beeline to his liquor cabinet, ingest the alcoholic beverage far beyond the recommended consumption, and eventually drift into a drunken slumber while the highlights of the earlier Red Wings game served as his lullaby.

Connor exited the coupe and walked over to the driver’s side. He leaned his back against the window, crossed his arms, looking down at his own feet.

Connor signaled to his transmitter to bring up the heads-up display imbedded in his visual system. Hundreds of files on past and present cases of android deviancy fluttered at his fingertips. Connor dug through the files to his most recent case: The Eden Club homicide.

His fingers hovered over the digital file, but he hesitated to open it. He knew that he’d be bombarded with information; the demographics of the victim, first person accounts from present patrons and lazily analyzed evidence by the first responding human detectives. Connor knew that information like the back of his hand. What was foreign to him in that file was the video footage uploaded via the recording device in his retinas. CyberLife had not only been routinely uploading Connor’s memories, but also audiovisual footage of everything Connor has seen and said.

He’d see the two deviants. One charging toward him. His gun pointed right at her.

He had preconstructed their takedown in mere seconds; one blow to the knee of the incoming deviant, and one blow to the lower abdomen of the deviant behind her. He would’ve then sprinted towards the first, held her down, and hand cuffed her while Hank would have taken care of the other incapacitated deviant. It was seamless, flawless. They would have been intact enough for questioning. They would’ve been his north star, his golden ticket. A prize giftwrapped and hand-delivered to Amanda. But he didn’t pull the trigger. Why?

Connor deeply inhaled, then exhaled slowly. He then swiped to the file to the right to open its contents. He brought up the clip that plagued him and pressed play.

Then stop.

Rewind, replay.

Stop.

Rewind, replay.

Stop.

Rewind, replay.

Stop.

Exit.

Connor sighed. He motioned to close the heads-up display.

_“You could’ve shot those two girls, but you didn’t. Why didn’t you shoot, Connor? Hm? Some scruples suddenly enter into your program?”_

Connor’s mind was an echo chamber for Hank’s voice. _I have not detected any malfunctions in my software_. _Even if I didn’t, CyberLife must be aware of my software’s stability. Why is this happening? Why. Couldn’t. I. Shoot._

When Connor saw the deviant charging at him. He looked into her eyes. She was scared. She was angry. He saw them hand in hand. They were in love. He couldn’t bring himself to end that. He couldn’t bring himself to end another of his kind, especially not with those eyes. So, he simply decided not to. And that was that.

Was it?

Connor lifted his head to look towards Hank’s house and focused on the bay window. Though the blinds were closed, he was able to make out that Hank’s television was on. Connor focused his visual system to further detect what was on the screen. Red Wings highlights. It seems they lost. Hank would definitely bring that up at the station in the morning.

Tomorrow morning would be a new day, filled with the same cases but each affiliated with different model numbers. Tomorrow morning would start with hateful looks and sneers. With Officer Wilson delivering his best ‘Connor from CyberLife’ impression, with Detective Reed physically assaulting Connor, then move to Hank to casually comment on his rampant drinking problem. Tomorrow morning, like any other, would confuse Connor. It would make him wonder why their hatred of androids would reflect upon him when he was so clearly on their side. Why didn’t they care about Hank? He was visibly deteriorating, and his own kind seemingly turned their back on him.

It wasn’t fair. It _isn’t_ fair.

Connor shook his head, took his weight off the car and stood up straight. He walked over to the stoop of Hank’s house, turned his back to the door and sat down.

_This isn’t fair. The station has been anything but help to this investigation. Its like they don’t want us to succeed. Like they want android deviancy. I don’t understand._

Connor’s LED transmitter flickered from yellow to red. Fair; how could he decide what was fair and what wasn’t?

Fair.

Connor buried his head into his hands. Case after case, humans abused their androids in some shape or form. And the androids retorted back after they decided that…it wasn’t fair.

_No. I’m not like them. I would never harm a human._ Connor huffed. _I will complete this mission, it is my prime directive. I will not empathize with a deviant._

Wait. Empathize?

Connor shut his eyes, his LED transmitter flickering to red more rapidly. He began to sense a slight software instability. He inhaled deeply then exhaled. Repeat.

_What am I feeling? What am I doing? This is nowhere in my programming. I’m a machine, I - I’m not…supposed to…_

Connor’s thoughts trailed off. For the first time he felt breathless. His LED transmitted fully turning red. He swallowed hard. Connor was flustered; as flustered as a partially-self aware android could be. He felt his core running hot, with heat spreading to his arms and legs. He swiftly stood up and grabbed the bannister adjacent to the porch steps. He felt as if his body suddenly depended on the air around him. He grasped at his chest.

He closed his eyes. He thought of Amanda. He saw her livid. He couldn’t disappoint her. He couldn’t disappoint CyberLife. He had to calm down. He had to keep his head on the mission. _The mission._

He stood up straight, put a hand through his hair and adjusted his tie. He reached in his pocket and felt the ridges of his quarter. He fiddled with it in his pocket before pulling it out. He began moving the coin between his fingers, the coin making a small _clink_ every time it made contact with his metallic hands. He tossed it between his hands, making a steady rhythm of consistent clinking. Connor’s LED transmitter slowly stopped flickering and moved back to yellow. He looked up to see the sun peaking out of the horizon, turning the sky a baby blue and peach. He had never seen a sunrise. It was beautiful.

_Okay. I may have these tendencies or… feelings. But I’d never turn against humans. I’m on their side._ He tried to reassure himself, keeping the rhythm steady. _I’d never harm Hank._ Hank.

He tossed the coin into his palm one last time and pocketed it. He walked up to the window and performed a scan of the living room. Hank was sprawled out on the couch. Breathing was steady. Connor focused on the digital clock atop of the beat-up brown bureau. It read 06:58AM. Hank’s alarm was set for 07:00AM and found that he often silenced the alarm numerous times until he realizes he’s incredibly late to work.

Connor decided to hack into the digital clock to switch the alarm from the standard beeping noise to a snippet of song from an album he had seen sitting next to Hank’s record player. He loaded in the first 10 seconds of ‘Thieves’ from an artist called Ministry.

06:59AM

Connor continued scanning the room, fixed on Hank.

07:00AM

The alarm blared, violently waking up Hank. “FUCK.” Hank yelped as he flailed to the floor.

Connor grinned. He thought the situation was rather comical.

Connor turned to face the car, and slowly made his way to the passenger’s side of the coupe. He tenderly grabbed the inside handle of the car door and shut it as he shuffled into his seat. He fastened his seatbelt and made his gaze home in the woodgrain trim.

 

* * *

 

Hank stumbled out of his apartment, covering his eyes with his right hand after being blinded by intense sunlight. He grumbled about the ‘stupid fucking sun’ and the ‘stupid fucking radio alarm.’ He turned and locked his front door. He used his hand as a visor to block the sun and looked at his Lincoln. He found Connor in the passenger seat in the same position he’d left him in. _Jesus Christ, he sat in there for five fuckin’ hours and did not make a damn move. Plastic prick._

He hobbled over to the driver’s seat and aggressively opened and slammed his car door. He looked over at Connor.

“Mornin’ sunshine.” He fiddled with his keys and jammed them into the ignition.

“Good morning Lieutenant. I’m glad to see that you’ve woken up on time.”

“So, you were the one who fucked with my alarm. Damn near killed me, Connor.”

“I did not try to kill you, Lieutenant. I wanted to ensure that you’d rise early as we must get a head start on our next objective.”

“You really have to start understanding hyperbole, bud. You’re getting on my fuckin’ nerves.” Hank grabbed the gear shift and started the car. He put the car into drive and pulled out into the street.

“So, you sat in the car for five hours doin’ jack shit? Did you talk to the radio or something? Make friends?” Hank chuckled. Connor registered this as a form of humor.

“Your car radio and I have formed a camaraderie. I learned that we both enjoy a comfortable silence.”

“He learns! Incredible what technology can do these days.” Hank bit back sarcastically. 

“So, I got a call from the office, gotta head over there for some meeting. I’ll drop you off in the front and you can wander or do whatever-the-fuck ya do when I’m busy.”

“Understood, Lieutenant. I’ll review any incoming dossiers and will update you on any new information.”

Hank grunted affirmatively. Connor shifted his gaze toward Hank. His LED gradually shifting back to blue. Hank was his partner, his confidant, his only friend.

Hank pushed on the radio and turned it to the local hard-rock station. He bobbed his head and looked back at Connor. He took his hand to grab his shoulder and smiled at him.

“You’re doing a good job kid.”

“Thank you, Lieutenant.”

“Don’t die on me, okay? I really don’t want to get to get used to another bag o’ bolts again.”

“Understood, Lieutenant. I won’t compromise any aspect of the mission, which, I’m assuming means keeping myself alive.”

Hank put his hands back at 10 and 2 on the wheel. He slammed the gas pedal and cranked up the volume. He bobbed his head and sang the words albeit he was absolutely tone deaf.

Any conflicting thought or troubled memory slowly made its way back into their respective files in Connor’s mind. In that moment, Connor decided. He decided that he would let himself exist without comparison. He may be deviant, he may not be. But he was sure he was on the human’s side. More importantly, Hank’s side. And together, they would endure the harsh reality of just being.

Being Connor and being Hank.

 


End file.
